


A White Horse, And He Who Sat Upon Him Was Named Pestilence

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Bonding, Cultist Deputy, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plague, Survival, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: “ Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, “Come.” I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer. “-Revelations 6:1-2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Its been a long time since I've written a zombie based fic so I hope this is good. Enjoy! Please leave a comment and kudos below on what you think. It would be highly appreciated.

_“ Then I saw when the Lamb broke one of the seven seals, and I heard one of the four living creatures saying as with a voice of thunder, “Come.” I looked, and behold, a white horse, and he who sat on it had a bow; and a crown was given to him, and he went out conquering and to conquer. “_

 

_-Revelations 6:1-2_

  


The Collapse was upon them but it wasn’t the fire and brimstone that Joseph had foreseen. The ivory towers of status that loomed over society had quickly crumbled. The politicians had been silenced and the world outside of Hope County had come to an end. It was chaos, blood in the streets as families ripped each other apart, friends were at war and children were not spared from the suffering. Disease had spread like a plague, infecting the masses as they were driven to extinction. Mother Nature was culling the parasitic herd that was humanity from the very face of the planet. Corpses rose where friends had fallen, bullets and blood riddled their bodies as foggy grey orbs stared unblinkingly at loved ones, teeth bared in a vicious snarl as fingers ripped through flesh. Screams erupted all around, silenced only by the dying whispers and hungry growls of the undead.

 

In a cruel twist of irony, Hope County had been dubbed the Eden of the world. A county entirely cut off from outside civilization, at war with itself and oblivious to the end that had befallen them all. Slowly, survivors had attempted entry, trickling into the county to find sanctuary only to be gunned down by Resistance and Peggies alike. Where desperation had led them unwittingly within the mountain walls, they had fallen to a bullet and rose in a frenzied haze, gluttonous and vile as they attacked any and all who crossed their paths. The end had befallen them and the outside world had tainted the peaceful Montana wilderness with disease and infection. The Collapse was upon them, but neither Eden’s Gate nor the Resistance were prepared.

 

The sirens call sounded, calling all Eden’s Gate members back to their regional bunkers. The hordes had overrun the valley, tearing through the streets of Fall’s End as the undead shambled on by. The people were trapped on rooftops to avoid the monstrosities that had become their brethren. Father Jerome and the Resistance built up their blockades but as one member after another fell from injury or sickness, no amount of walls could keep the dead from rising within. Bite marks and scratches spread infections, fluids in the wounds were just as deadly. Any open injury was scrutinized relentlessly. The weak put down cleanly, final prayers were their only mercy before a bullet entered their skulls.

 

The worst of the diseased came in the form of the Angels. The gangly braindead members of the cult turned into walking tanks of pestilence, strong and relentless. They roamed in flocks, unguarded and unhindered by their mindless needs as they growled and snarled about. The only saving grace came in their muzzled presence. Unable to bite their victims, they could still inflict damage beyond most. They broke through fences and hammered down the boarded windows and doors of homes.

 

The Resistance was pinned down, calling for help wherever it could come. Eden’s Gate outposts weren’t faring much better. Distress signals lit up the radio channels, each one a plea for help that would go unanswered. The Whitetails were on lockdown, tucked inside their bunkers as they coordinated their forces. Jacob’s men swarmed the Hotel’s and Encampments. The Stone Chalet near Langford Lake and the Grandview Hotel were the pinnacles of safety. Chosen roamed the skies, mapping out the movements of Hordes, massive flocks of Angels and other shamblers stalking along the roads and tree lines. Some surrounded the outposts, groaning and banging on the fences and barricades attempting to get at the occupants inside.

 

The Judges weren’t sheltered from this same fate as the fearsome beasts turned rabid with disease. It wasn’t long before the Veteran Center was overrun with sickly Judges. The balconies were lined with snipers and gunmen crowded in and gunning down every last feral wolf. Jacob was among them, his cherry red rifle glinting in the evening sun as he put a bullet in each and every wolf’s skull. The bodies were dragged outside the center and burned in the ditches. The walls were fortified with the remaining cages, the metal broken down and welded to the gates and fences. The radios were burning up with so much chatter, the herald couldn’t contact his pet. No distress signal had ever gone out from the mute’s radio, no sign had been given but it still worried him.

 

* * *

 

 

On the other side of the county,the fight for the Holland Valley was a fierce one. The one eyed bodyguard immobilized his men on turrets and tankers as they reclaimed the Ranch from the undead. The hangars were necessary to get scouts in the air, giving John a vantage point over his region. Angelo fired off round after round into the undead hordes, Angels and shamblers alike rummaging across the terrain, lunging from corners and alcove. The ranch was a maze of uncertainty as he rounded every corner expecting teeth and claws snatching at him.

 

A quiet hallway disturbed only by the light thudding of a lone shambler. Nails digging into the wood of an upstairs guest bedroom, clawing gouges into the wood. Dark streaks left behind as rotting flesh ripped away from the abuse. A bullet splattered brain matter across the adjacent wall. Angelo could already hear John’s complaints echoing in his head as his good amber eye fixed on the door in question. He raised his Beretta as he tried the knob, a quick turn failed to allow him through. He had half a mind to shoot the lock off if he didn't have to face John later on about the damages to his home.

 

“I know you're in there. Come out now with your hands up.” He ordered with a hard icy tone. The authority in his voice hardened over into an uncaring calm. He waited for a sound, a voice of any kind in protest, but nothing came. He narrowed his eyes again on the door, feared the occupants on the other side had already succumbed to the infection. His finger settled over the trigger, starting to squeeze when the knob clicked and began to move. It twisted then opened slowly. Hands emerged first from around the door frame, tucked just out of sight for a measure of cover. The darkness of the room kept Angelo from making out how many were inside. A tilt of the right hand caught his attention, a familiar flash of scarring where the Baptist himself had carved the sin of _Wrath_ into his flesh.

 

The next step of boots brought the mysterious hideaway into the open. A pair of bright blue eyes gazed up at the bodyguard with relief, freckled features softening their tension. Angelo reached up to greet his brother, fingers coaxing the wayward strands of black locks out of his face, tucking them behind Jasper’s ear before cupping his cheek. “What are you doing all the way out here? I thought you were with Jacob.”

 

Jasper made a straight forward motion with one hand but used his other to cut it off like a barricade or wall. “You got cut off? So you were in the valley when everything went ass up?” Jasper nodded, made another gesture of planes. “Supply drop?” Angelo asked in confusion, his mind running through the Cult schedule the last week or so. Around the time the shit hit the fan, Jacob had a convoy sent to the valley to pick up a fresh load of supplies. From the looks of it, Jasper was all that's left of that convoy. “There's a cargo truck parked out by the hangar, half way into the bushes. I'm assuming that was you.”

 

Jasper answered with a sheepish shrug and a light nod. If anyone knew best, it was Angelo. Jasper was a terrible driver under pressure and often makes quick irrational and extremely reckless decisions that often lead to more trouble. Jasper on his own behind the wheel of a cargo truck that size, Angelo was just surprised it made it to the ranch in one piece with all its wheels and axles intact.

 

Angelo let out a long sigh as he looped an arm around his brother’s shoulders, giving him a half hearted hug, his good eye glancing back inside the darkened room once more. “Come on. The Ranch is secure for now.” He let his arm drop as he gestured for Jasper to gather his belongings. The mute nodded and returned inside the room, snatching up his bow and satchel, adjusting the strap across his chest before following his brother down the halls. Angelo remained vigilant for any stragglers they may have missed, but as the peggies searched the rest of the house, they radioed an all clear signal. Angelo ordered the bodies be loaded up and taken down the air strip to the field to be burned, meanwhile, he helped a handful of others begin fortifying the Ranch until John could arrive.

 

The Herald wasn’t at all happy at walking into what was left of his home. The furniture was stained and trashed, there was blood all over the floors and another not so lucky body tucked around a corner that was forgotten. John’s outrage was barely contained as he approached the pair of brothers who were installing perimeter sensors. Angelo straightened up as Jasper finished drilling the last of section C into place, making certain the lasers line up properly with one another before rising to his feet. “Why aren’t you with Jacob?” Were the first words from John’s mouth as he gazed down at Jasper with scrutiny. He hadn’t heard hide nor hair from the Whitetail region in days, Jasper’s presence lapping at John’s fears until Angelo spoke up in the mute’s stead.

 

“Jasp was in the Valley when the shit hit. He couldn’t get back to the Whitetails so he came here instead.”

 

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he considered the possibilities of his brother’s safety. His gaze shifting for a moment only to be lured towards the gaudy cargo truck crashed into the side of the hangar walls. The tail end sticking out, dented all to hell along the sides and smeared with dark streaks from ploughing into undead along the way. “I’m going to assume that atrocity parked into the siding of my hangar is your doing.” John blanched, his tone taking on a hard edge of growing annoyance. Jasper gave a sheepish little shrug and made a chaotic gesture with his fingers. It was sporadic and John couldn’t really make sense of the action so he dismissed the attempt with a wave. “Whatever the reasoning, I don’t want to hear it. I want you two headed to the Father’s compound.”

 

“What’s the status on the compound?” Angelo’s demeanor shifted with the mention of work, a subtle change in posture, wound tight with anticipation. His shoulders rigid as his good eye fixed on John. The earlier relaxed posture he slipped into around Jasper had evaporated completely.

 

“A distress signal was received this morning. They’re barely holding out.” The baptist explained, the somber tilt to his voice was laiden with concern for his family. It was a concern the brothers understood well. Angelo rested a hand on John’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The baptist allowed the contact, pressed into it even seeking the comfort of his second in command.

 

“Jasp, grab what you need from the hangar. I’ll meet you over there with the truck.” Angelo directed, his gaze never leaving John. The mute took the hint and nodded, his boots crunching along the gravel path as he heard Angelo’s voice murmuring softly to his Herald. It wasn’t common place for John and Angelo to flaunt their relationship so private little moments like this were a rarity that Jasper wasn’t going to intrude upon. He gathered what he could for their trip, rummaging through one of the storage lockers until he found Angelo’s belongings tucked away. Extra ammunition for his Beretta, a couple more loaded clips prepared for a retreat to the hangar. He tossed a majority of the supplies into Angelo’s duffel, already stocked with emergency gear, much of it was common practice for an ex-police officer. The kind of equipment he’d keep in his cruiser for absolute emergencies along with a few extra added in for Cult reasons.

 

It was a hell of a lot heavier than it looked by time Jasper zipped it closed, loaded down with ammo mostly. Luckily he didn’t have to heft it far when Angelo pulled the large white Eden’s Gate pick up to the open hangar door. The driver’s side window was rolled down as Angelo gave Jasper a thumbs up in approval, the thin blue line patch on his duffel sticking out against the black fabric. “Good job Jasp. Hop in.”

 

Angelo was peeling out of the drive down the air strip before the door was even shut all the way. Jasper had deposited their gear in the back seat within arms reach and set his bow beside it, clear out of the way. His 1911 was strapped to his thigh holster, one hand gripped the ‘oh shit’ bar on the dash as they rode over the hilly dirt terrain and crossed the field past the massive pile of burning corpses. Angelo stopped only briefly to pass orders on to the peggies overseeing it, sending them back to the Ranch to help with the preparations. One truck load was ordered to follow behind them, their turret coming in handy as they relayed information back and forth. The fastest way to the Father’s compound required them to go through Fall’s End. The town was a disaster that Angelo wasn’t intending to run into blind.

 

Jasper checked his firearm as they transitioned to smoother roads, exchanging clips and moving around bullets in his pack to restock newer clips. He was quiet, more so than usual. No soft sounds or even the brittle passing of words between him and his brother. A nervous tick formed in his right knee, the quick subtle bobbing was barely concealed by the dash. Angelo glanced over only briefly to observe the change in his brother. A hand left the wheel to grip Jasper’s knee with a reassuring squeeze. The mute settled, tucking his firearm back into the holster and clipping it properly in place. His hand moved to grip Angelo’s, a silent return of understanding. The older man was soothed by this gesture, giving his brother’s hand a slight squeeze before returning both hands to the wheel.

 

The peaceful Montana landscape was rife with smoke and fire. There were even more vehicles abandoned along the roadside, leaving plenty of places for undead to tuck around. Angelo was vigilant, knuckles blanched white from the hard grip on the worn leather. Jasper’s gaze settled on the passing fields, burnt black with nothing but charred foundations for what used to be homes and barns. Corpses littered the grounds, animals and people alike.

 

The distant mountain peaks of the Whitetails called out to Jasper with an ache of concern. His radio had gone dead silent from the Whitetails. Every channel he attempted to find was nothing but static crackling over the waves. Meanwhile, the Henbane and the Valley were as lively as ever adding onto the shared dread for the safety and sake of his Herald. He had no doubts that Jacob would survive. His Herald was strong and smart, a soldier no matter what warzone or environment he was thrown into. It didn’t permit Jasper the reassurance he needed though. No matter the amount of planning or precautions, all it takes is one to get behind closed walls and an entire compound is lost. He’d already seen it happen to several outposts, crawling with undead trapped inside and outside the walls. All scrambling to get at each other and the noises around them.

 

Jasper’s mental stroll was interrupted by the sharp warning. “Look alive.” Angelo barked, snapping his brother from his thoughts as the truck came to a slow rolling stop.

 

The truck behind them followed suit, pulling up to Angelo’s driver side. They rolled down their windows as the peggie in the passenger seat viewed the town through a scope. “There’s a whole mess of shamblers in the streets, sir.” He handed the scope over to Angelo who gazed through it with his good eye. His attention following from the walking corpses milling about Main Street up to the moving bodies on the rooftops. Armed civilians and Resistance members alike were stuck topside, some had signs signalling for help. Others had flags made of torn fabric wrapped to tree branches or broken boards. A couple of the buildings were swarmed by the undead, uncoordinated limbs thrashed against boarded windows and doors, the gnashing teeth pressed against siding and other bodies as they snarled and roared at their intended prey. “What’s the plan?”

 

Angelo observed the chaos through the scope once more. He sighed in thought, his eyes narrowed as he searched the town for any weak points. “There’s a back street that runs along behind a majority of those businesses. If we can get as many people off those rooftops as possible, we might be able to barricade the town the rest of the way.” He gestured towards the buses and adjacent vehicles that were in the process of locking down the perimeter. The town’s folk had the right idea but they didn’t move fast enough to stop the spread.

 

“We’ll get the people down. You three put that turret to good use. Fire into the cluster and nail as many of those bastards as you can. Get their attention and lead them away from the town. When you lose them, radio me and come on back. We’ll need the help.”

 

There was a moment pause before Angelo spoke up again, passing the scope back to the passenger side peggy. “Understood?”

  
The three answered in quick unison. “Yes sir!” 


	2. Chapter 2

The people of Fall’s End perked up at the sight of trucks approaching in the distance. Their hopes rising only to be quashed at the first sign of Eden’s Gate cultists. They shifted nervously on the rooftops, stirring into a silent panic as the gun truck approached, the vehicle cruising up to their open barricades where the swarms were scattered. The second vehicle had driven out of sight, disappearing down the backroads and fields. It felt like being circled by sharks while drifting on the only life raft in the ocean. As the guns opened fire, the townsfolk flinched and ducked for cover but their worries faded as the horde of undead started to buckle and dwindle in the streets. The scattered corpses clustered together and shambled after the gun truck. It backed up on the road and eased it's way around, the turrets turned back towards the town as they slowly led the flock towards the open fields. One by one, the blaze of bullets cut down the offending flock and gathered more at the explosive bursts of rounds.

 

The streets steadily emptied out, leaving only a couple stragglers in their wake. The people anxiously shifted in indecision as they watched the lingering corpse. There was risk of luring the others back if they fired off but they couldn't leave their stranded positions until the rest were gone. The problem wasn't a permanent one as an arrow pierced the skull of each undead. The bodies crumpled to the ground as the familiar visage of the Eden’s Gate attack dog emerged from the alleys. Behind him was John Seed's body guard and well known torturer. The eye patch was a clear marker to the people of the town as to who they were dealing with. 

 

Jasper and Angelo cleared one building after another, knocking on the doors of the boarded abodes to alert those within that it was safe to emerge. The people climbed down from their vantage points but remained uncertain about their unlikely saviors. It didn't last long once Angelo began directing the people, moving vehicles to close off the entryways, patching up the fences. Within an hour, the radio crackled to affirm the gun unit had lost the horde and greatly diminished its size in the process. They were called back to the town and pitched in on the work. It wasn't ideal to the cultists but they couldn't disobey an order from Angelo. The townsfolk were equally as conflicted about their assistance but were thankful nonetheless.

 

Father Jerome helped tend to the sickly and weak, those who spent too much time without sustenance or exposed to the harsh days of sunlight on the rooftops. There were a handful that had already passed on from heat stroke and dehydration, their corpses added to the growing pile being dragged out of the town to be burned in the field down the road. The scorched landscape being utilized once more, assured by the blackened earth that it wouldn't get out of control and roam. The smoke rising high into the sky and casting long shadows against the sun. The Father of the church approached the brothers with Mary May at his side, her gun loaded and hanging from her shoulder strap, held nonchalantly in her arms, one finger resting above the trigger. 

 

“I'd like to thank you for your assistance, gentlemen.”Jerome began as his gaze flitted from Jasper’s humble nod, a small smile of reassurance balancing on his lips before Jerome’s attention fell upon Angelo. The meek posture of the Guard Dog made Angelo’s rigid pose stand out even more. A single good amber eye narrowed on the preacher with scrutiny, holding more than enough suspicion in his gaze. The challenge in his stance was not returned as Jerome adopted Jasper’s posture to defuse the growing tension. “I can only assume you didn't help us out of the good graces of your hearts, given you came from Seed Ranch.”

 

“You all were on the way to where we're headed. Figured the more of these bastards we put down and the more people we keep alive helps us in the long run.” Angelo answered with a cool steady tone. His gaze never once wavered from Jerome, meeting the preachers observant stare but where Angelo was fixed on the man, Jerome shared a glance between both brothers. 

 

“I see. We appreciate the help then.” Jerome repeated as he shifted the faux bible in his arms. He tilted his head towards Jasper and offered a warm smile. Jasper returned it, sharing it with Mary May who nodded his way as well. Only the smallest of smiles reached the corner of her lips. Jasper was familiar with both residents, from before and after the cult started their shit show. Many of his relationships since joining the cult, had been strained but he held barely threaded connections throughout. Some had cut ties on him completely, some overlooked his allegiances and chose to only acknowledge the man he was and what he stood for. Some took his change of sides with a hard dose of salt, it still stung but they cooperated when they could and understood the balancing act he was performing to keep the path he was walking. It was far from easy and Jasper had lost enough people at this point that petty squabbles weren't worth the heartache.

 

“Well, we won't keep you boys waiting. I'm sure there are more urgent matters for you to attend to.” Jerome continued, gesturing for them to take their leave. His hand swept towards the gated area that they erected to allow vehicles to pass in and out with ease. “But before you go,” His hand tested on Jasper’s shoulder to hold him steady. Angelo's hard gaze fixed on the touch as if it were a personal offense to him but Jasper appeared unfazed. “if you come across any more survivors, please send them our way. We have supplies that can help. A doctor even. If you're looking to save bodies, that would be a good start.”

 

Jerome let his hand fall away when he caught the sharp look from the bodyguard. Jasper nodded his understanding to the words before turning towards Angelo for his thoughts. Angelo shared a brief glance with his brother, letting out a soft sigh of defeat as Jasper pleaded his desires with those bright blue hues. “We'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the heads up.” He waved dismissively and gestured for Jasper to follow, heading for their truck where it was parked just outside the main fences. The gunner truck was parked beside it, the three chosen were sitting idly, awaiting their next commands. 

 

Two more gunmen had joined them, squeezed into the back seat with automatic rifles and a few extra cases of ammunition in offering. Some of Jerome's flock, young and well armed. They came of their own will and hoped to aid whatever force was going to drive back the undead. Angelo idly wondered if they misunderstood their reasons for helping and assumed the cult issued a cease fire. He didn't waste any time to explain or argue, relaying commands to the truck behind him before setting back on course for the Father's Compound. He checked in with John on the way, the radio chatter was short and sweet as he explained the situation and status of the town. John was surprisingly appreciative of their intervention but Jasper chalked it up to the Herald’s own personal agenda involving the town. Of that, John had many.

 

It was a long drive from Fall's End through the thicker wooded areas of the valley. They came across small clusters of shamblers and a few lone crawlers scraping themselves across the ground. Some were pasted to the roadway like a trampled coon, others were lying about waiting for prey to pass by close enough to stir interest. They were slowed down by a few feral cows that attempted to charge at their trucks. They were easily dissuaded by a gunshot, scrambling them back to the fields and forests with frantic baying.

 

When they broke through to the more open easternmost edge of the valley. The orchards and pumpkin patches came into view. The quiet hum of the engines were the only interruption to the peace of the countryside as they rolled a steady pace towards the nearest outpost. An explosive boom disrupted their solace as a bullet whizzed by. Angelo slammed on the brakes, the turning the truck at an angle to avoid being rear ended by the gunner truck following. Another gunshot sliced through the air and more screaming, Angelo’s gaze was directed by Jasper’s alert posture, his body twisted in the seat as he pointed to the red tin top roof of the outpost where three very frantic civilians were waving and crying out for help. A dozen or so shamblers and two infected Angels were lurking below, scraping and clawing at the exterior of the walls, blocking off any ways down from the roof. 

 

The sniper that got their attention was picking off any shamblers emerging from the nearby orchards and fields, trying to keep the flock from growing any larger than it already was. The radio crackled on the dash, the rear vehicle calling for the bodyguard’s orders. “Sir, should we engage the hostiles?”

 

Angelo glanced towards Jasper who was already reaching for his bow from the back seat, the quiver full of arrows ready to be put to use. The determined look in his brothers eyes confirmed that no matter Angelo’s decision, Jasper was going to help. “Yes, but no gunfire. Keep it quiet and make it quick.” 

 

“Understood.” They answered, the bodies squeezing out of the truck and into the open with weapons drawn. One of the resistance members was armed with a bow, taking point with Jasper and a Chosen Archer that was driving. Angelo and the other Resistance member were armed with large buck knives, thick work gloves slipped over their hands to protect them from the fluids of getting close and personal. The last two brought up their rear with rifles at the ready, one was silenced at the end, the scope sighting out any stragglers crossing in from the orchard. They moved in one functioning unit up the dirt track towards the warehouse. 

 

One by one, arrows sunk into the skulls of shamblers, teeth gnashing and limbs thrashing about in carnal lunges, halted by the sharp tip of an arrow through the brain. Angelo and the resistance member plunged their blades into the eye sockets, securing a permanent death for each fallen target. “Jasp, 6 o’clock.” Angelo hissed through his teeth, his amber orb turned towards his brother as he crouched low, giving Jasper a clear shot of the shambler that emerged at their backs. His arrow was retrieved by a nearby peggy who used it to help end the fallen undead, sinking it through the soft tissue in the skull. The angels were harder to handle, coaxing them away from the other dead, the Chosen Archer and the other resistance member double teams them, taking the angel down with surprising ease. A smirk playing on their features with subtle nods of appreciation. 

 

It was fast and efficient work, clearing out the area as the three stranded civilians clambered down from their perches. One was a brunette woman with a ponytail, her brother who had shorter hair tucked under a cap. Both were young and dressed in their local colors, Cougar logos stretched across their hoodies. The older woman that was with them held the rifle in hand, dressed in camouflage like a whitetail but she lacked the whitetail markers. Her hair graying in short streaks and features wrinkled with time. “Glad y’all came by when ya did. Thought we were goners.” She blurted with a good natured relief. She held herself poise, not as shaken up as the younger woman who wiped tears of joy from her face. 

 

Jasper nodded, giving a dismissive wave as if the assistance was no big deal. “Where are you heading from?” Angelo inquired, his authoritative tone that screamed police slipped in well. It was hard edged but open enough not to intimidate. His single good eye fixing on the woman who only smiled at him, tossing a thumb back towards the road. 

 

“Silver Lake Trailer Park. We just barely missed a herd of them biters comin on through. Some folks are still holed up there. If y’all lookin to help survivors, I’d ask ya to help them folks out.” She implored, greying eyes watching Angelo before flickering to Jasper’s softer freckled features. The mute nodded enthusiastically at the request, his gaze flitting towards Angelo who’s stoic facade shifted only briefly, giving in to the pleading gaze that was inevitably directed his way. 

 

“We’re heading that way anyway. If you folks can manage it, you can follow along and help us out or start heading to Fall’s End. They have supplies and barricades to keep the dead out. Father Jerome is waiting for survivors.” His words had softened, pressing the need for living bodies though his features remained hard. 

 

The woman seemed to consider it for a moment, nodding in understanding. “I’ll help ya with the Trailer Park. Mind if my niece and nephew follow along till then? They won’t be much trouble but I won’t leave them alone here.”

 

The young man opened his mouth to argue but was silenced by the strict paternal look that was directed towards him. Grey eyes narrowing as words fled his lips and he dipped his head in obedience. The older woman sighed, shaking her head as she adjusted her rifle. 

 

“They can ride along until then. We’ve got a lot of places in distress though so we can’t keep taking on folks.” Angelo explained, raising an arm towards the trucks down the small dirt track. He ushered the two younger siblings to his and Jasper’s vehicle, the Aunt taking up position in the tail bed. The rest of their convoy loaded up in their own vehicle and continued down the way. Jasper was directing Angelo to where the Trailer Park was, the pair of siblings in the back giving Angel an update on how bad the park was exactly and a rough estimate on survivors.

 

The ex-officer’s tension growing at the exaggerated numbers only to simmer to a small boil when they rolled down the shallow incline to the park. They parked on the edge of the treeline where the driveway halted, already spotting a few choice areas where survivors could be heard within. Whatever numbers appeared to have been present were dwindled. From the looks of it, they were either killed by those remaining or followed the trio to the orchard from there. Following the same unit style process, they split up into two groups, leaving the sibling back inside the safety of the trucks. Jasper, the elder woman, a resistance member and another peggy took one side of the trailer park while Angelo, the Chosen Archer, the resistance member and the sniper peggy took the other. 

 

It took a little longer to clear out each trailer, having to coax the dead out of the tight quarters into the open where they were more easily taken down. The one’s outside of the trailer were pinned against the water stained siding by a plastic picket fence held up by two people while the eyes were gouged with blade and arrow, taking down two shamblers in quick succession. A few were wayward peggies that had been bitten, skin rotting on the sides of the bodies from exposure to the heat of a Montana summer. Angelo’s nose crinkled at the stench of decay and feces that festered around each body. Some were a lot riper than others, the fresher corpses having more resistance to their attempts to end them. 

 

One by one, each trailer was cleared, allowing the frightened inhabitants to come out of their locked doors. The elder woman called out, barking out the names of people and urging them outside. There were tears and sobbing, words of praise and thanks, but there was also bitterness from some. A sour hatred when they recognized Angelo and the Peggies. Jasper was treated much the same when his identifier collar was exposed, the name SEED in all caps engraved into the silver name plate. People became distant when it was understood the cult had saved them. What few resistance members present offered good natured explanations and passed on the information involving Fall’s End. Many of the people they saved only followed the word of the older woman. She offered a saddened smile towards the boys but it was all that could be done when faced with such conflict. Being saved by the enemy didn’t exactly have a guide on how to handle the upset. 

 

The survivors loaded up their trucks with supplies and weapons and people, stopping only when Jasper waved the older woman over to them. Her own family members waiting inside a rusty green pick up for her to join them. “Can’t thank you two enough.” She offered, gesturing towards the people moving quickly in and out of the trailers, scavenging what they could. 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Angelo assured, one hand resting on Jasper’s shoulder as the mute watched quietly. 

 

“You mentioned distress signals earlier.” The woman started, her words trailing off a little but when she was only answered by a clipped nod, she continued. “Where are you boys headed next?”

 

Jasper tapped the collar at his throat, pointing out the name and making a gesture like he was fixing imaginary glasses. Angelo translated the gestures when the woman stared in confusion. “The Father’s Compound. There are a lot of people who need help out there and the more locations we can turn into safe havens, the better.”

 

“Fucking hell.” She blurted, shaking her head in disbelief. She eyed Angelo and Jasper, expecting them to be joking about it but when the reassurance never came, she sighed heavily. “Heard a shit load of shootin goin on over the lake from that direction. It lasted for days, tons of gunfire, like a war was happenin. The last day or so, it got eerily quiet and that horde came stumblin in from the Henbane.”

 

Angelo glanced over his shoulder towards the direction, his gaze trailing from the treetop obscured lake view to the little dirt path leading from the park down towards it. “There a boat dock nearby?” He inquired, never turning away from the trail. 

 

“Mmhmm.” The woman affirmed. “Should be a boat down that way actually. My brother-in-laws. Keeps the keys in the ignition. Your more then welcome to help yerselves to it. ‘Fraid that’s all I can offer ya.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. The boat is all we need. You guys head on off to Fall’s End. Tell Father Jerome we sent you.” His amber gaze directed towards the woman just as she approached. Her arms flung around both Jasper and Angelo, pulling them into a tight and startling hug. Jasper relaxed into it easily but Angelo remained tightly wound and unsettled. She backed up, barked out a laugh of amusement at Angelo’s dumbstruck expression before heading back to the green truck. Angelo gathered their supplies from their own vehicles and sent the gunner truck back with the civilians to Fall’s End, ensuring they would return safely. The two resistance members followed them with their gear, down to the dock where the boat awaited them. It was a simple watercraft, nothing too special. Capable to toting around all the weight they brought with them as they loaded it down with ammo and bodies. 

 

Angelo radioed John, informing the Baptist of their location and how close they were to Joseph’s compound. John answered back with a strained voice, hearing the update from the civilians. “If something-” John’s voice cut for a moment before he tried again. “If something happened to Joseph, I want you to end it Angelo. You understand me? My brother’s suffered enough. He doesn’t deserve that kind of fate, to be one of those  _ things.” _ John pressed through clenched teeth. “End it and bury the body.”

 

“John-”

 

“I don’t care what protocol is, Angelo.  _ We  _ **_bury_ ** _ our loved ones. _ ” John growled through the speaker, the sound was muffled towards the end, a hiss of air followed. 

 

“Understood, sir.” Angelo submitted, a somber tone nestling into his throat. John didn’t add on any further orders or messages, leaving the boat in silence. Angelo clipped the radio back onto his belt, his good eye focused on the island ahead of them as he started up the engine with a jarring rumble. The other three occupants held on tight as the boat started a slow purr before picking up speed across the water. The weight of their cargo keeping them at a moderate pace, skipping on the waves that greeted them, lapping at the sides and spraying back at them. Angelo was unfazed by the elements as he watched the pillar of smoke rising up from the compound, a signal beacon that nestled dread inside his chest. 


End file.
